


A Few Hours of Peace

by XProphaneX



Category: Horde - Fandom, WoW - Fandom, World of Warcraft
Genre: A relationship that is not a relationship but it is, Anal Sex, Comfort, Hidden Feelings, M/M, Prostitution, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Trust, letting down walls, smartass Bloodelf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XProphaneX/pseuds/XProphaneX
Summary: Garrosh Hellscream has just been made Warchief. To celebrate he orders the best one of the local whore houses has to offer. Instead of a simpering porcelain sex slave he gets a smartass Blood Elf with scars and a tendency to fight back. This follows the reign of the Warchief and the nights he spends with his new found plaything he can't seem to give up.





	1. The First Night

**Author's Note:**

> All canon characters are not mine, all Oc's are and i spent too long giving them all backstories lol. Please note that while I am sure there will be typos I have missed if you wish to leave a review i would very much like to hear your ideas on the story as well as my stupid typing fingers. <3

Orgrimmar at night was much as it was during the day, a buzzing metropolis, a giant living thing that had it's own pulse , it's own breath. As one half of the Horde stood down another was waking to take their place. With the sun long set it's warm yellow hues where replaced by the the harsh neon glow of Goblin made lights, bright colours mixing with the dust and and the steam and smoke from torches into a sickly green cloud that lingered everywhere as the city cooled.

From under one of these beacons of garish colour a Goblin stepped out, his single pink eye looking around the street looking for any potential trouble, something seldom far away when it came tot he clashing races of the Horde. He used long nails to scratch under the stiff leather patch over the other eye socket, it was still early, no danger of a group of beer soaked guards crashing in just yet. He turned around and growled in a voice that spoke of little patience and a burning temper.

“Get your pretty arse out here.” He reached back into the recess of the doorway and pulled a much taller, cloaked figure from out of the shadows, a hood pulled up high around the males head and flowing from broad but slim shoulders. “Come on, your not a fucking queen move yourself.” 

The taller of the two yanked his hand away from the small green goblin's hand only for it to be grabbed from behind by a much larger hand, with a far less forgiving grip on the pale skin. Slippered feet stumbled as he was pushed in the back by an Orc and further out into the street. 

“Alright, you oaf, get off me. I get the point!” The cultured voice from under the hood was softer by far than his two companions but dripped with distaste and again he pulled against the hand overwhelming his whole pale skinned forearm.

“Let go of 'im, Agguam. We can't deliver 'im with broken bones and battered skin.” The Goblin said with a sly smile “The Warcheif will wanna do that hisself.”

Agguam let go of the slim arm and laughed while pushing the cloaked man in the small of the back. “Move.” 

The three walked threw the streets of the City in silence, the Goblin leading the way and the Orc bring up the rear, his eyes trained on the back of the slim one between them. Nobody really bothered them, occasionally someone would try to sell one of them something and would be treated to a menacing growl from Agguam or a mouthful from the Goblin.

They only stopped moving when they reached the back entrance to Grommash Hold, the single door was flanked on either side by guards who looked a littler more alert at the approached but not much, they where hardly the most menacing of parties to come here and they must have been briefed already considering that the one to the left addressed the Goblin by name. 

“Teredo Fizzcort?” The Orc guard looked down on the Goblin, who didn't even flinch as the massive bulk of raw muscle bore down on him like an impending avalanche.

“Yep, that'd be me.” He said with a wide grin full of teeth. “I brought the package the Warchief asked for, best we have.” He hooked a thumb back at the cloaked fellow standing behind him. “Only the best for the leader of the Horde, am I right?” 

“Why's it got that cloak over it.” The guard asked, suspicion etched into his ugly scarred face. The orc moved around the goblin and advanced on the slim figure. “You trying to pull something, Goblin?” A large hand reached out to pull back the hood. 

“We was told to be all hush hush like. Considerin' what he's got on under there you wouldn't want him walking up 'ere without it.” Teredo sniggered “And I don't think the Big Man is gonna be happy if you unwrap his present for him out here for all eyes to see.” 

The Guard stopped with his hand an inch from the hood and looked at his watch-mate, the other Orc looked equally as confused as to what they should do. This man could be an assassin, he could have anything under there, they should look, it was their job after all. It wasn't that they thought the Warchief could ever fall to something so weedy as the skinny thing under the cloak, after all he was Garrosh Hellscream...but still.

“Unless you think the Warchief can't take on a little slip of a lad like this.” Teredo said as if reading their minds “If that's the case feel free...but you can be the ones to tell 'im. I wanna keep me teeth, if it's all the same to you.” He scratched under the leather covering his eye again in an offhand motion. 

That seemed to make up the guards minds and he slowly pulled his hand back and turned to the Goblin with a growl. He was not happy but if there was a chance that the goblin was right and he would piss off his new Master-in-chief he would rather not take the risk, and nor would his partner if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“Piss off then, Goblin. We'll send for you when we need you again.” The guard put one large hand around the back of the thin figure and guided him towards the door, rather more gently than the cloaked one had been expecting. He turned his shadowed face, looking back over his shoulder at Agguam who had been stood behind him, he heard the leather of his gloves creak in warning, a promise.

“Pleasure doin' business with ya.” Teredo spat on the floor and turned around, strolling away, accompanied by Agguam who only gave the cloaked man a meaningful glare before he followed. The guard simply pulled his face at the two as they moved off and opened the door, shoving the slender figure in the back and pushing him through. 

The corridor beyond the door was short and dim compared to the room that it lead into, a large well lit space filled with animal skins and braziers. They walked past a huge table draped in a red cloth bearing the symbol of the Horde, covered in documents and scrolls and a map which was drooping over the side of table, pins and little figures covering the continents and lengths of string spanning out like a spiders web. More scrolls where stacked on top of chests and rolled up in a overfilled rack on the wall,

“Up the stairs.” The Guard grunted, the slim figure in front of him did as asked and moved to the steps across the room and started to climb. The set of spiral steps opened out into a room was clearly owned by an Orc. More furs, a crackling firepit in the middle of the room filled with smouldering logs that glowed like brands and crackled like lightning and the large hulking form of an orc stood by a table braced on massive forearms of pure muscle reading something, his back to the new arrivals. 

“Warchief, it's here.” The guard said from the top of the steps, he seemed reluctant to come into the room, hovering in the shadows of the archway like they where some kind of shield. The orc at the table turned his head ever so slightly, to cast a glance behind him. 

“Get out.” 

The guard nodded and turned on his heel, leaving his ward still standing by the arch to the stairs, while Garrosh Hellscream turned around to observe the slim, cloaked form on his doorstep for a moment or two. He didn't speak and neither did the man under the hood. Then without warning the Orc moved forward and in a single swift move pulled the hood down. 

What met those strong browed eyes was the elegant head of a Blood Elf. This particular Elf had a mass of dark ginger hair, elaborately braided and pulled into a loose tail, the ends haphazardly spilling down his back, vanishing under the neck of the cloak. Fiery green eyes looked back into the Warcheif's own, proud but unable to completely hide the intimidation. 

Garrosh looked him over, then pulled on the gold cord that held the rest of the silken patchwork cloak on the elf's slim shoulders and watched as it dropped to pool on the floor. The naked torso was muscular but still slim, not bulky or overly broad. Garrosh ran a hand over the flowing muscles slowly. The Elf didn't move, he stay perfectly still while he was explored.

There where scars on the hips and crossing muscles, some flat and white, others pink and slightly knotted. Thick orange skinned fingers followed the path of a few of them. The left shoulder was an angry red, like it had been burned or scorched. His lower body was clothed in a red and purple silk scarf skirt, the woven gold band only staying in place with a single thin gold, chain easily snapped. 

“So your the best The Body Emporium has to offer.” He had been expecting something flawless, something untouched and easy to mark. 

“I am the best that they can afford to loose.” The elf replied coolly. He was still looking at the Orc but his own tapered pale fingers where already at the chain on his hip, sliding under ready to break the thin metal and let the last of his clothing fall into the mass already on the floor.

Garrosh reached down and wrapped a hand twice the size around the elf's wrist and pulled it up, keeping the chain in tact. “No.” He received a confused look from the man in front of him. He squeezed, not enough to hurt the elf but enough to warn of his strength. “Serve me ale.” He let go of the arm roughly and, on large bare feet, headed over to an armchair backed with a great bear skin and sat, waiting. 

The elf hesitated for a moment as he watched the large bare chested Orc march over to seat and then turned to look for the ale he was supposed to be serving. There was a large tapped barrel in one corner, Darkmoon Special Reserve had been branded into the wood and a tankard made of bone standing on top, ready. The slim creature moved over to the barrel and took the tankard off the top, putting it under the tap at a steep angle and turned it.

Now that Garrosh could see the back of the elf he noticed that the angry red scorch marks he had seen on the males shoulder extended down the blade of his shoulder, tapering to a point, with more, smaller marks around the base of it. He watched the pouring of the ale with almost as much intensity as he was the one pouring it, breathing threw his nose heavily, the ring making the sound even louder in the quiet room. 

Slowly straightening the tankard as he poured, the elf turned the tap off and made his way towards the Warcheif with the full cup in two hands, hips swaying slightly with each step and stopped in front of him holding it out, handle to the Orc's massive hand. “Your ale, Warchief.” 

Garrosh reached out and took it by the handle and brought it to his lips, tipping his bald head back he started gulping down the amber foamy liquid and in less than four gulps the tankard was drained and handed back to the elf with a satisfied sigh. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth and nodded his head back to the barrel. “Another.” 

This repeated, in almost silence five more times, only the sound of the filling cup, the Warchief breathing deeply and that single word “another” passed between the occupants of the room. It wasn't until the sixth time the tankard had been emptied that the loop stopped with the bone cup being tossed onto the floor where it clattered and bounced close to the embers in the pit. 

There was the slightest hesitation in the elf before he started to walk over and leaned down, reaching to pick it up. He was stopped by the command, barked from the Warchief watching from his chair like a hawk. “Leave it.” The elf stopped and turned his head, fiery braids whipping round to drop over his shoulder he raised one eyebrow at the Orc, tilting his head to the side in question. 

“What's your name?” Garrosh asked, gesturing for the Elf to stand and watching as he did so, eyes making a slow pass up and down the pale body as he turned to fully face the Orc. Angelil wasn't sure how this evening was going, but it wasn't the way he had expected. When someone rented a whore or the evening they where not normally there for drinks and a conversation, the fact that this was an Orc made it even more confusing, they where hardly the most challenging of customers. Take your clothes off, lay back, get the job done and collect the cash.

“Sin.” The Elf said softly.

“What's your real name?” Garrrosh's voice had a bite of impatience, he was legendary for his short fuse and Angelil didn't feel like testing the rumour was a good idea.

“Angelil Fireskin.” Green eyes watched the orc closely, the wheels of his brain turning, trying to work out what was going on and why this was all so...awkward? It wasn't the awkward of a first timer or of someone ashamed of renting pleasure or even someone afraid of intimacy...it was just...awkward.

“Come here.” another short command.

Angelil walked over on silk clad feet to stand in front of the muscular male only for those large hands to end up on his hips, tugging him forward so swiftly that his hands shot out to try and steady himself and landed on the Warchief's broad pectorals. The Orc manoeuvred him like a rag doll till he was kneeling on the chair straddling the Orcs legs, his knees cushioned on soft fur.

“Has an Orc paid for you before?” This close Angelil could smell the ale on Garrosh's breath and was very aware of the hands resting on his slim hips, warming the skin that had started to chill slightly, the embers in the fire pit in the middle of the room no longer able to warm the air.

The etiquette for this question was to lie, threw your teeth, instantly. The customer was there fore the experience not for the truth, but Angelil knew now that lies where not what this customer wanted. He rested his hands, open palmed, on the deep orange skinned shoulders to make himself a little more comfortable and he could feel tension built up there.

“Yes, not many, but some.” He admitted, the tension didn't let up and he furrowed his brow slightly. What had the Warchief of the Horde so wound up and on edge? An Orc on edge was a dangerous thing to be around, let alone in the lap of, so slim fingers moved slowly danced along thick muscles to find the right points to apply a light pressure trying his best to loosen knots and release the tension.

“What are you doing?” Garrosh's head turned to the side to look at the hands that played along his muscles, he looked at the Elf again who didn't stop what he was doing and instead looked into the deep set yellow eyes that were just as hard as the body he was working on. 

“You're tense, Warchief.” He said leaning closer and rested his own bare chest against one much harder and warmer than his own while his hand continued to work. “It's my job to solve that.” 

“It's your job to do as I tell you. Stop.” The Orc growled.

“My apologies, Warchief...”He said all the warmth in his voice gone, hands resting still as he pushed himself off the broad chest. He should have stopped there but frustration ripped the words from his mouth before his brain had the chance to stop them. “But you rented a whore, whore's are there to fuck, make you feel good and then get out of your life! So are we going to do this or are you just wasting my time! I don't understand what I'm doing here-”

He was cut off before he could finish his tirade by the Warchief yanking him closer by the hair and kissing him. Panic, fight or flight kicking in and Angelil's first instinct was to bite, scratch and claw at every part of the Orc he could reach. He sank his teeth into the Orcs bottom lip and his long nails tried their best to bury themselves in tough skin while pulling against the strong hand on the back of his head. 

This treatment seemed to have the opposite effect on the Orc and rather than letting go of the spitting viper he wrapped a muscular arm around his waist, pulled the elf closer and started growling into the bite, huffing through his nose in delight at the roughness, his large palm opening to cradle the back of the elf's head almost gently. 

This little act of gentleness helped Angelil to ground himself. The Orc hadn't hurt him he was just enjoying the kiss as far as orc lovers went this was gentle, so he stopped fighting out of panic and started fighting for dominance. He took his teeth out of the thick lower lip and ran his tongue over the cut before pushing into the kiss. He continued to fight the Warchief, pressing himself closer, gripping his shaven head and putting all his strength into getting his tongue deeper into the Orc's mouth. 

Rumbling growls of pleasure rather than annoyance vibrated the chest below his, Garrosh tangled his hand more firmly in the fiery braided hair and pulled the Elf away from the kiss looked him over. Angelil was breathing heavily his lithe chest raising and falling rapidly, a little of the orc's blood on his ruddy lips, glowing green eyes hooded with the beginnings of arousal.

“So you do have a set of balls under all that silk.” Garrosh grinned, caring nothing for the bite that was still bleeding a little. “I hate simpering weaklings with no fight in them.”

So that was the Warchief's deal. Angelil smirked a little and licked the blood from his lips, the iron tang hitting his taste buds, long slow and deliberate so the orc could see every move of his tongue. Garrosh Hellscream liked to fight in all areas of his life is seemed. He wanted a challenge in his bed not someone to just roll over and take it, and now the behaviour made sense, he was waiting for the Elf to snap and tell him where to get off, to put up a fight.

“You could have just said.” Angelil leaned forward and licked Garrosh's bottom lip, the taste of blood had never bothered him, he had had his fair share of barely cooked meat and spilt lips. The kiss giving him more confidence in his moves “But I suppose that wouldn't have been any fun for you would it?” 

“You elves pride yourselves on your brains.” He muttered as the slender creature licked his lip clean slowly. “Doesn't look like your scared of a fight” one large finger traced over a long knotted scar all down the left side of Angelil's torso under his arm and ending at his hip “Or do you just piss off your pimp?” 

He lifted his arm to look down at the scar, He couldn't feel the touch on the actual scar, just the glide of thicker finger where it touched the clean skin over his obliques either side. “I was being chased by six angry Quillboar. Tried jumping a ravine that was wider than I thought it was and I ended up slashing myself on the stones while I was pulling myself up...it took them a while to hit bottom.” He smirked. “It was pretty satisfying when they did though.” 

That made the orc laugh, It was a deep rich sound full of mirth and it had the strange effect causing the overwhelming urge to kiss the orc again, he never was one to ignore and urge, so leaned up and took another one for himself trying his best to dominate the kiss but control was soon taken from him after a quick struggle by the orc who made another aroused growling in the back of his throat. 

“Did I say you could kiss me?” Garrosh growled out when they parted lips again, though the growl was far from the tone of irritation the Orc may have intended. Angelil was much more into this than he had been at the start, now things felt comfortable, all traces of that awkward start had vanished in that one kiss. Not even the feel of the Orc wrapping his large hand around his throat worried him. The gentle but firm grip not cutting off his breath, simply asserting authority.

“You didn't say I couldn't.” He said with a shrug of one shoulder. “And I don't like being told I cannot have what it is I want...” He ran a finger over one of the scratches he had left on broad shoulders which started shaking with mirth again, but there was that hum of pleasure in the air, both of them enjoying the little back and forth.

“Let's see how big these balls of yours are.” The orc let go of the Elf's neck and used both arms to carry the slender male into his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them. Angelil smirked using his position to his advantage, lips and teeth attacking the Warchief's neck and earlobe to stoke the fires a little more before he was dropped onto the bed, literally.

Normally he would have flopped back on the bed acting shy and inviting, but not with this customer, it wasn't what Garrosh wanted, and more to the point it wasn't what Angelil wanted either. Garrosh bore down on him moments after unloading him on the bed and met the eager elf coming up to claim him lips as he descended to take them. Arms wrapped around his smooth head and neck as they all but devoured eachothers mouths.

Hovering over the bed as he was, with only one knee on the mattress, Garrosh was surprised when the elf used the position, though it took all of the smaller creatures strength, to flip the Orc onto his back, giving the smaller male chance to climb on top of him, straddling his hips, placing both hands on wide shoulders, diving back in for more rough kisses. 

Allowing Angelil to stay on his perch for now the Warchief took advantage of the body straddling his, one large hand gripping onto one hip and using it to encourage the Elf to grid against him, not that he took much encouragement. With their lower bodies rubbing against each other Garrosh could feel that there was nothing under that silk skirt but skin and he had an overwhelming desire to see it. 

Angelil was well ware that he was moaning into the kisses, with the barest encouragement he moved his hips and the sounds of pure arousal increased. This was more than just doing his job, this was enjoyment, he could almost forget he was bought and paid for. When he felt the hand on his hip searching for the gold chain he pulled away from the kiss and slapped the hand away as he retreated with a smirk on his lips. 

The growl that issued from deep inside the Orc's chest was one of warning, Angelil ignored it and pushed up from his knees to stand over the Warcheif, looking down at him, feet planted either side of Garrosh's hips, chest heaving as he tried and drag in the air that he struggled to gain in the kiss. How the skirt had managed to remain clinging to his hips till now must have bee the work of magic, but still it obscured the Orc's view of what he desired.

Garrosh reached up to grab the chain but Angelil slapped his hand away again, another growl of anger laced with arousal at such disobedience, louder this time as the Orc was denied his prize yet again. The bright green gaze was hooded and filled with pure lust and just a hint of smugness but his eyes where not what caught the Orc's attention, something much more subtle, the slipping of one long tapered finger behind the chain before snapping it in two.

The silks fell away, revealing all of the Elf's body to his Wrchief. Strong legs, a tidy patch of fire between them, more scars littering his skin and his member, proud and erect as he stood over him. Angelil allowed the Orc to look his fill before dropping to his knees again, letting his naked flesh grind against ever tightening leather clamped around Garrosh's very apparent desire.

Garrosh grunted and reached out to wrap one large hand around Angelil's throat again and tug him closer to his face, squeezing a little to cut off the ease of breathing, punishment for stopping him taking what he wanted, and he was pleased to see the defiance in those green orbs before they flickered shut as Garrosh lifted his hips into the grind. The sight of the strong naked body over him had been more than a little arousing to the Orc. Though it lacked the massive bulk of an Orc, it was not lost on him that the elf kept in shape. 

Angelil's hands ran over the front of Garrosh's leather pants looking for the lacings, the feel of the Orcs body heat threw the animal skin was like fire against his palms. The Warchief had been hard and pressing against him since they had started, it must be suffocating for the Orc not to be free of his ever tightening clothing. Searching finger pads found their mark and started tugging at laces, pulling the material apart. He knew he had been right when the pressure on his throat eased and the Orc let out a long moan. 

Angelil took this opportunity to look down and concentrate on pulling his client's member free, sliding down his body peppering kisses along the flesh as he went, and pulling at the offending garments until the organ was in both of his hands, hot and heavy, much bigger than any Elf could ever be, but then again it was all relative. 

Garrosh lifted his head and watched as Angelil used his hands to slide up and down, pleasuring him with his hands as he explored, he seemed fascinated by what was threw the tip of it. The Orc gave a snort of amusement past the ring in his nose. “Are you just going to look at it all day or are you going to do something useful with that smart mouth of yours?” Growling low in his throat, eyebrow raised. 

“Is their nothing you Orc's wont get pierced?” the Elf said, looking the orange male right in the eye as his drew the flat of his tongue over the head, dragging over the bar threw the tip of the member and tasting the Warchief's desire as he did so. Not normally an act he enjoyed much but he was pleasantly surprised that Garrosh seemed to have bathed before he had been sent for. Not a courtesy his clients normally extended so he made sure to take his time and linger in the right places, watching the Orc as he did so.

“I'll pierce you soon enough,” Garrosh pushed himself up on one arm and extended the other to take hold of the back of Angelil's head by the hair and pulled his mouth onto the tip of his member roughly, not enough to choke the Elf, only enough to stop the teasing. Tight heat was suddenly all around the first few inches of his sensitive flesh, using his hand he started to set the pace he wanted, the elf letting the head slip in and out of his mouth.

Pale hands gripped tight orange-brown thighs as his mouth was used, the thrill of being treated in such a way was like fire crackers going off down his spine. Other clients had to be careful with the whores they paid for, anything that put them out of action or marked them cost extra and this meant that the sex everyone was subjected to was lacklustre, no thrill, he was treated like glass and he hated it...but Garrosh...He pulled his head back using his arms to fight the grip on his head and managed to get back to the tip.

“Stop holding back...I can take it.” He gasped, fighting to keep his lungs full of oxygen. 

One look into his green flame eyes was all it took to tell he was being serious. He stopped fighting the pull on the back of his head and soon his mouth was full again, along with his throat mouth forced open as far as it would go. The satisfied grunting from Garrosh was enough of a reward for his efforts. Both of the chief's hands where on his head, the thumbs pressing into his lower jaw sure to leave dark bruises by morning. 

The tightening of his throat around Garrosh's hard cock was like a glove, the Elf hadn't even gagged, he had to remind himself that this was not the main event and pulled back enough to let the redhead breath before he passed out. He watched as he sank in and out of those reddening lips that stretched around him like the skin on a drum and had to pull Angelil off after only a few minuets, hand shooting down to squeeze tight at the base of his cock as he fought down his impending orgasm.

Angelil lay on the bed panting for the moment as he fought to get his breath back and clear the spots from his vision, red hair like a halo of fire splayed around his head. He was still hard, painfully hard with arousal not threw self pleasure but truly aroused by the act itself. His lips where fuller and slightly bruised, deep ruddy red against pale skin, eyes watering slightly and he turned his head to see what his client was doing. 

The Orc seemed to have gained back his control, he looked to the side and watched the Elf watching him, he smirked at the state he had left the man in and leaned down to kiss those reddened lips roughly, his tusks scratching the elf's cheeks only a little. Angelil moaned and pushed himself into it, giving as good as he got, not allowing the orc to win the dance of tongues so easily, one hand resting on the larger chiselled jaw. 

Pulling himself closer, the determined Elf started to climb back to his original position straddling the Warchief as he pulled back to break the kiss. He looked down on the Orc and lifted himself up, taking the Orc's thick member in his hand and guiding him into position against his entrance. He wondered what the bar would feel like inside him and felt the overwhelming desire to find out, now.

He was shocked when a pair of hands shot out to grab his hips stopping him from pushing back and impaling himself, his green eyes turned to the Orc's face with a look of slight worry. Had he done something wrong? Hadn't he wanted to go this far? Of course he did, so why was he stopping?

“Easy, you're gonna hurt yourself.” Garrosh grumbled, both his thumbs sliding along pale hips in soothing circles. “It doesn't feel good if you force it, for either of us.” 

Angelil felt a slight tenseness in his chest, the grip of some pleasant emotion he couldn't place when he realised the Orc was trying to make sure he didn't hurt himself. Slowly he ran his hands down his own sides until they rested over the Orc's much larger hands, ghosting touches, light strokes from the pads of fingertips. 

“I'm already prepared...” He said softly “You won't hurt me.” He leaned forward, lay along the Orc's body to whisper seductively in his ear “Well...no more than I want you to hurt me...” he gave a sharp bite to the thick lower lip again before the Orc bridged the gap again and kissed him. Without warning and at the same time the hands on his hips became a vice like grip and he felt himself being breached, all the Orc's self restraint gone in an instant.

Ok so maybe had been less prepared than he though he had been...or he had underestimated the size of his client. Maybe some lubrication other than that of nature would have been a good idea. The burn as he was stretched was like lava and he cried out into the kiss, the sounds he made swallowed by the growl that Garrosh let out as he was clamped in tight velvet muscle. He didn't wait to long before he started to move, he couldn't, and started rocking up into the elf on top of him. 

For the first few minuets Angelil was lost in the burning and the stretching, breathing heavily to try and regain his composure and not whimper, the pain was fading slowly into a deep hot pleasure as he was filled and emptied over and over again. The bar threw the others member was massaging his inner walls and sending new sensations threw his body with each slide and he silently decided that orcs where geniuses .

His arms where weak and they shook violently as he tried to forced himself to sit up on the large member, hands curling into fists resting on Garrosh's pectoral muscles propping himself up. He started to add his own motion to the equation, a roll of his hips to push a little deeper, he opened his eyes and looked directly into the yellow glare of the Warchief, he moved his hips down harder so that he sank further down onto the member as the Orc pushed up. 

This Elf had guts, Garrosh had to give it to him. He defied him, he fought him and he was not adverse to pain and rough treatment, in fact he seemed to get as much pleasure from receiving it as Garrosh did giving it . He was exactly what he had wanted, he had bought a whore but he had been presented with a fighter, someone that didn't give in spite of the odds stacked in front of him. If Garrosh was impressed by anything it was someone that proved themselves.

The rhythm they slipped into lasted for what seemed like hours but was in fact only minuets, the only sounds in the room where those of skin against skin, panting and moaning and growling. Angalil was loosing his mind to the throws of pure pleasure, riding the orc with reckless abandon, his hair like the living flame as he bounced up and down, body bending back into a perfect C-curve each time he felt a jolt. His pale skin was starting to become covered in a light sheen of sweat that made the orc's grip on his hips harder to keep.

Soon the pace started to become anything but smooth, Garrosh was reaching his end and so too was Angelil, along for the ride weather he liked it or not. The Orc put one hand back around the Elf's throat and started to squeeze yanking him back down to share his mouth, the other took a renewed grip on his hip as he started to increase the force behind the trusts. 

He only realised that Angelil had reached his orgasm when the body around him tightened dramatically, the mouth against his letting out a choked cry of ecstasy and moments later Garrosh lost his grip on his own pleasure, pulling the elf down hard and hunching as the muscles in his abdomen tightened with his own end, filling his smaller lover with seed.

Time passed with no words, only the sound of panting as the two caught their breath The Elf splayed over the Orc's larger chest with his face buried in the crook of the Warchief's neck who in turn had two large orange hands resting on slim pale hips. There was a muffled groan of pleasure from the hidden face and Garrosh couldn't stop the lazy smirk from crossing his lips or his strong fingers from kneading the pale flesh that was already growing purple spots from his grip.

Now came the bit Anagelil was unsure of. He knew that he had been pre-paid for but normally they never left the brothel so he was not used being the one to do the leaving, and he found he really didn't want to leave at all yet. He felt heavy and contented and he could hardly keep his eyes open he was so high on the afterglow. It didn't help that the Orc under him was still massaging him either. 

He was carefully rolled onto the bed to lay on his back while the Orc got out of the bed, finally pulling his pants off all the way and headed to a large jug of water and a cloth. The elf watched from under lazy eyelids as the cloth was dunked in the water and Garrosh rubbed himself down. He gave a slight sigh, seemed that it was over. Pushing himself up on the third attempt and stood beside the bed all be it a little shakily, reaching out and pulling his skirt from the foot of it where someone had tossed or kicked it. 

“What are you doing?” 

He looked up as he started fastening the hidden ties inside the skirt covering himself again. Garrosh was standing there naked, an impressive sight to be sure. He was holding the freshly cleaned cloth in one hand and giving the Elf a look up and down. Angelil let his hands drop, now clothed again.

“I thought you might like to get some sleep tonight...though if not I will happily stay.” The Elf had no place to be tonight or any night for that matter unless someone paid for him.

The Orc walked over to him and without much fuss pulled the skirt off him in one fluid motion without so much as a word, then using the cloth he started to clean his chest, the rest of his body, caressing him in cool water that made the Elf moan ever so softly. This was nice...unexpected but nice.

“You sleep here.” Garrosh said as he threw the now soiled cloth in the direction of the jug. “The guards will take you back in the morning after we are done.” 

“How could I refuse such an offer...” Angelil muttered as he smoothed his hands over that impressive chest he had been presented with. 

“It wasn't an offer. It is an order.” Garrosh growled as he pulled him close and started moving backwards towards the bed once again. 

Angelil grinned. “For the Horde.”


	2. The Second Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should have been his night off, but when the Warchief calls you answer. Angelil doesn't find he has as much of a problem with it as he should have. Another night alone with the Warchief brings a few creeping realisations to the fore but neither will admit to anything. Whores don't feel and Warriors don't do soft, that's what they keep telling themselves anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the hits, I just hope the story keeps you all entertained, it's nice to see that counter going up, it really puts a smile on my face. <3

The muted hum of the brothel in the early evening, was to Angelil, like the sound of waves along a sandy beach. Muffled laughter, the sound of tankards landing heavily on wooden table tops, the chattering of his fellow whores as they sold their skills, all the humdrum helped his tired mind start to drift into sleep. Nights off where few and far between in The Body Emporium and the Blood Elf intended to enjoy his to the fullest.

His peace however was short lived. Just as he started to drift off into the land of dreams, the white noise became a whole lot louder as his door was flung open and in barged a gaggle of his fellow workers, all chatting excitedly. The door slammed against the wall and to add insult to injury slammed shut behind the last uninvited guest, Angelil was still pulling himself up in bed when his eyes where assaulted by the flaring of matches as the lamps in his rooms where lit.

“What in the name of the Sunwell is going on?!” Angalil's raised voice and tone of irritation was met with another round of giggles as men and women pottered around his room as if it was their own, picking threw his clothing and searching his dressers, talking amongst themselves like he wasn't even there. Angelil bristled silently and got ready for a tirade when even that was interrupted.

“Oh stop your moanin' mon.” His bed clothes where rather unceremoniously flung off of him by a Troll female who pulled the naked elf out of the bed by one arm with all the airs of a long suffering mother.

“Amina!” he complained as he was woman-handled out of his bed, the bedclothes taking all his modestly with them to the floor.

“There be an Orc outside for ya.” The troll said as she pushed and prodded him in the direction of the bathroom with thick long nailed fingers. Angelil looked about to give her a mouthful but she cut him off in a sing song voice. “From de Hoooold...”

Angelil promptly shut his mouth, which caused yet more twittering laughter from those around him. He simply gave them his most withering look and let himself be chivvied into his bathroom, closely followed by Amina and her brother who trailed behind and closed the door behind them.

“Zaljaf, get de bath filled double time. Dere is only so much drink we can ply dat muscle head wid before he come marchin' up 'ere ta get his charge.” Amina mad a shooing motion, her brother rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he wandered off. Her attentions here turned back to Angelil with an expectant smile on her face and her hands resting on her hips.

“I don't know why you are looking at me like that, Amina, I really don't.” Angelil said turning away from that look and grabbing a bottle of scented soap from the shelf, pulling out the cork to smell it. His nose was assaulted by the smell of rose petals. It was quickly corked with a look of revulsion. Who had stocked this shelf?

“Ange, ye be actin' like de Warchief isn't askin' for ya. Again.” The woman said with a laugh as steam started to fill the room. “Dis could be a goldmine for ya. Tink about it, if ya on special order for 'im ya untouchable. No more o' Fizzcort pushin' ya around.” She ran her fingers threw bright pink dreadlocks looking at the ends of them as her voice dropped lower. “it be more dan some o' us can hope for.”

Angelil turned with another long slender bottle in his hands. He handed it to Zaljaf, who took it silently and walked off to the bath, leaving the two of them in semi privacy. The Elf moved over to the troll woman and took both of her hands in his and squeezed them. “Two times in a man's bed doesn't make this a regular thing...but if it did then you can bet I wouldn't be leaving you behind.”

The troll looked up with a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, Angelil had the decency to ignore the shine to her eyes and the moment of vulnerability before he was turned around and steered towards the bath. “Then ya better get ya ass inta gear and make dat Orc want ya.”

~*~

Angelil had never bathed so quickly in his life, then again he didn't normally do it with three pairs of hands. After he got dried off he walked back out into his room to find the others had be very busy, there where clothes laid out for him. Treescha seemed to have taken over the construction of his outfit this evening, his wardrobe doors where still flung open showing off all his colourful silk, the Orc woman stood with her arms folded barking orders at the others.

“No, put that smelly shit away! He's going to see the Warchief not some pretty painted Elf tart.” she growled as one of the Draenei girls picked up a small bottle of strawberry oil. With a humphed it was slammed down on the dressing table followed by a pout. The Orc woman shook her head and pointed to a pair of orange silk pants with some sort of dark green pattern embroidered on them. Next to it was a plain green sash , much different to the last outfit he had worn.

“Thank you Treescha...and I shall remember the comment about Elf tarts.” Angelil said as he pulled them on and tied the little strings at both hips to keep them up. The Orc punched his shoulder, lightly it had to be said, but then again even a light punch from an orc got your attention.

“It's not my fault all you elves look alike, male and female.” Treescha smirked even more when Angelil gave her a rude hand gesture. She grabbed the sash and wrapped it tightly around the waist of the pants to cover the laces and gave it a big fancy knot on his hip the last of the material hanging down his side. “Now go and work what little charms you have.”

He pressed a light kiss to her green cheek and grabbed his cloak from the hanger by the door and headed out into the noise of the brothel now in full swing. He stood in front of one of the Kor'kron guard he recognised from the last visit, the one that had shown him to the Warchief's room. He looked to be finishing his fourth pint of ale and gave the Blood Elf a critical look up before down he pushed himself up using the bar as leverage. Once he was upright he hooked a massive thumb in the direction of the door. “Move it.”

The short trip to Grommash Hold passed in complete silence apart from the sounds of building. There was a lot of work still going on even at this time of night, hammering and banging and drilling filling the night air as the changes to the capital where being completed. When they reached the single door, the guard didn't even bother stopping and lead the elf right threw only coming to a halt at the bottom of the staircase. “You know where to go.”

Angelil breezed past the Orc without a word, feeling the contempt roll off the guard in almost tangible waves. Walking confidently up the steps, silk slippered feet that made barley a sound on the wood emerging at the top in moments and into the warm anti room of the Warchief's private quarters.

The fire pit was much more lively this time, flames dancing around a pile of smouldering logs, sending embers up to dance in the smoke. Garrosh came into view a moment or two after the elf stepped inside, stepping out of his bedroom rolling his shoulder with the cracking of stiff bones. The Orc noticed Angelil when the latter swung the cloak off his shoulders and placed it on a hook by the stairway.

The Warchief looked much the same as a few weeks ago, only now instead of clean brown-orange skin wrapped over all those strong muscles there where now a selection of dark black tattoos, they looked fresh and they suited him, curving and swirling lines made matching patterns on each side of his torso. Decorating his firm pectorals and curving over his broad set shoulders, leading the Elf's eyes in mapping the Orc's body.

“You done staring at me?” The Orc said with amusement lacing his words as he walked over to his bearskin-backed chair, landing on it heavily and leaning back with a few more protests from his bones.

“An artists work is made to be admired.” Angelil said as he moved over to the beer keg, still in the corner of the room, and took down the tankard that was resting on top of it. He started to fill it without being told the quiet yet pleased noise behind him signalling he had made the right move and he could feel the Warchief's eyes on him sending a pleasant shiver through him. Garrosh watched the Elf, taking in his clothing for this visit.

“This has nothing to do with art, this is for pride and honour.” The beer was handed to him and downed almost in one go before being handed back. “Another.”

“I see. You will have to educate me.” Angelil said as he filled the tankard again and brought it to the Warchief. “I know very little in the subtle ways of Orcish culture...assuming you can do nuance as a race.” There was a small smirk on his face when the Warchief looked up sharply but after a moment there was a snort of amusement.

“That's funny coming from a race who couldn't get to the point if you nailed it to their forhead.” He threw his head back and drank down the beer in seconds before throwing the tankard over his shoulder and hooking one arm around the elf's hips and tugging him onto his lap where Angelil took a moment to get comfortable with a little wiggle of his hips.

“Only because the long words hurt your head too much which means that we have to use lots of little ones so you can understand.” the Elf said as he ran his fingers threw still damp red locks, shrugging one shoulder. This was all so much more relaxed than last time, no awkward tension, no worry...which was why he was completely unprepared for a large hand grabbing him by the back of the hair and pulling him into a deep rough kiss dominated entirely by a large tongue.

When they parted Angelil hummed with pleasure, not sure at what point he had closed his eyes he let them open again, treated to the smugly satisfied look on the Orcs face. The Warchief looked particularity pleased with himself when Ange slowly caressed his cheek.

“Watch your mouth, Elf.” He growled softly “It will get you into trouble if your not careful.”

“You like it when I talk back to you.” Angelil said as he started to run curious fingers over the Orc's tattooed flesh. They followed along the patterns, wandering over marked and unmarked skin with interest. Where the ink had been pushed into the skin it seemed to be a little more raised than the rest, the sensitive pads of his fingers picking up the subtle difference. “Now, weren't you supposed to be teaching me?”

The Orc watched the Elf's fingers meander over his arms before he spoke, still watching the careful exploration of his skin by talented fingers. “These where like the markings my father wore on his skin, when I ware them as he did I carry him with me. The Tattooist ran out of ink before he could finish, there is one more important part to be added and then it will be whole ” His own hands moved to tap the red marks on the Elf's skin. “What about these?”

Angelil turned his head to look at his own shoulder and gave a slight shrug. “Not nearly as interesting I am afraid.” he said softly “I was born with them, birth marks are not uncommon I was just unlucky enough to have particularly large ones. That is how I got my name as it happens, without a family to provide me with one the orphanage called me Fireskin.”

The Orc moved some deep ginger hair from the marks and started to inspect them, much like Angelil had been inspecting him. The elf leaned his head out of the way while battle worn fingers travelled the flat red marks that stained his otherwise pale skin, rough callouses raising goosebumps all over his body and a quiet hum escaping between lips.

“Control yourself.” Garrosh said with a growl in the back of his throat as he continued his slow and gentle exploration of the markings on the Elf's shoulder and back, the other hand firmly tangled in ginger hair.

“That's your job, Warchief.” He muttered with a smirk, letting his eyes open hooded with pleasure. They where full of challenge and the Orc seemed pleased with the defiance, giving a deep throaty laugh as he wrapped both arms around the smaller male, who in turn rested his arms over broader, muscular shoulders.

“I could snap you like a dry branch if I wanted.” Garrosh said as he squeezed a little, a reminder that this was perfectly true. It was thrilling to have so much raw power, so much strength behind every movement and action, controlling himself enough not to act on it and crush the Elf was thrilling, more thrilling still was that Angelil knew it too and was willingly putting himself into that possition.

“Now that would really ruin my night off...” He said with a theatrical sigh. “We don't get many of them and I was so looking forward to enjoying myself tonight.” He shifted a little on the Orcs lap only to feel the muscles tense beneath him the mood suddenly thicker. He looked at Garrosh with a raised eyebrow, what had caused this so suddenly?

“Has anyone touched you?” is was meant to be a question, but questions could be unanswered, his tone strongly advised the elf against choosing not to answer him. Not that Angelil would have avoided so anyway, he knew Garrosh didn't want what other customers wanted from him. He shook his head in the negative.

“Mother, said I wasn't going to be put back on the floor until the bruises you left healed up and a healer had seen me. I have been manning the bar for the past few weeks.” he said. When he still saw suspicion in the Orcs fierce yellow gaze he reached around and took one of the large hands at his hip and brought it up to his throat. “If you think I am not being truthful...then punish me...” He felt the hand wrap around his slender neck in a light grip.

There was a long moment where nothing happened, the orange-brown fist wrapped around Angelil's pale throat, feeling his pulse beat steady with every heartbeat, while green eyes locked onto yellow as the tension in the air became almost a living thing...until all at once it broke and the Orc's hand slid down along his pale chest, over the ripple of light muscles back to it's original roost.

“Who is this Mother you speak of?” Garrosh eventually asked as the Elf slowly leaned back into the warmth of his larger body, thumbs slowly starting to work soothing circles at his hips as the Orc relaxed again. Garrosh seemed more settled but in himself he couldn't seem to place why the reaction had occurred in the first place.

“Mother Thursha, the madam of the house. Fizzcort might own The Body Emporium but he couldn't run the place to save his ugly little neck. Little snotpile couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery. He employs Mother to look after the day to day and the money, normally just drops by with a new girl or boy every now and then or with special orders.” At the last two words the elf ran his flat palm against the Orc's hard chest.

“I fucking detest Goblins...” The orc spat in the fire as though the very word was like rot in his mouth. “Their uses are few but necessary.”

“Mother, is trying to raise the money to buy Fizzcort out, seems to be the only way to turf a Goblin out.” Angelil said as he watched the dancing flames in the slowly lowering firepit. “I don't think he will ever settle on a price though, he likes to have power over people. His family isn't the biggest, and he is defiantly the runt of the litter.”

Garrosh snorted in disgust and returned his attention the fire in front of them, the crackle of burning logs was all that filled the comfortable silence for a while as the Elf leaned against the Orc and the Orc held the Elf close. It didn't last very long, a smirk spread over the thick lips of the Warchief.

“So as it's your night off I assume your free.” Garrosh said

“Fuck off, I'm charging you double.” Angelil muttered in a sleepy voice, with the heat and the comfort of a close body he had almost fallen asleep on the large warm chest he had laid his head against, listening to the thudding of the Orc's heartbeat. He was wide awake seconds later however when he was hoisted into the air and over the Orc's shoulder as the Warchief pulled his huge bulk out of the chair and stomped toward his bedroom, the Elf draped over one massive shoulder like an old carpet.

“Well this is hardly dignified!” Angelil said only for the Orc to compound his undignified position by patting him patronisingly on the ass with a chuckled as he booted the door closed behind them and flinging the Elf onto the bed.

“I like this outfit better," Garrosh said, hands already pulling at the ends of the elaborate looking knot at the Elf's hip "at least it looks somewhat like it belongs on a male.” he had it undone in seconds and started unwrapping Angelil's waist, moving the smaller body like a doll when he encountered an obstruction.

“You are the second person to question Elvish gender tonight. I thought the lack of breasts might have been a clue.” Angelil giggled and used the Orc's amorous untying to pull himself to his knees and start unwrapping his own gift, wrapped in brown leather. He had to thank whoever had suggested the Warchief of the Horde ware leather pants. Slim hands found the laces by touch alone, as his mouth was captured and held hostage.

Angelil managed to undo the laces after a little feeling around that drew growls of approval from the Orc he was helping undress. The laces at this own hips where too fiddly for large fingers to untangle with any real haste and so there was as was to be expected of an Orc in heat there was a sudden ripping sound as the laces where yanked clean threw the holes in the material.

“I'll buy you new ones.” the gruff statement cutting off the small complaint that was ready to fly from the Elf's lips as his clothing was ruined. Instead of saying anything at all Angelil took the liberation of his mouth as an advantage to move things along and moved down Garrosh's body, kissing as he went, hands pushing and pulling at the leather still in his way, freeing the object of his desire by the time he made it down to the right level, laying out on the bed.

He happily engulfed the member standing half proud in front of him, wrapping his lips around the head and sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks and reaping the glorious reward of hearing the Warchief of the Horde growl behind bared teeth, for him it was the same high Garrosh felt when he exerted his brute strength to gain an advantage.

Garrosh leaned forward, pushing his member into that warm, wet suction and reaching down to grab the hems of the silk pant legs still covering the Elf, Pulling them off Angelil's lower body rose with them and what landed on the furs of the bed was nothing but bare skin. Pleased for now with the view he retreated from the Elf's mouth and  
allowed the smaller man to control his pleasure as he desired for the time being.

Now able to breath again Angelil pulled his head back and tugged on the Orc's hand, gesturing that he should sit down so they could actually be rid of the Orc's clothing entirely this time. Remembering with some amusement that last time they had been so eager in their coupling Garrosh hadn't manage to fully undress until after it was over. When the Orc obliged he pushed the pants of his thick legs and onto the floor. Satisfied Angelil returned to the task in hand.

Garrosh sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on large forearms to watch the show, those reddening lips getting more and more ruddy in colour as they tightened and relaxed around his now solid member, slim pale hands wrapping around the base and stroking in tandem what he currently didn't take into his mouth. The skill level was clear to anyone on the receiving end, and there came those thoughts again, those burning irritations like splinters under his skin. A large hand rested on the back of Angelil's head a tight grip on the top of his skull.

Angelil took this as encouragement and decided to go a little further down, a couple more inches of the turgid flesh vanishing inside suctioning heat, more grunting and a tighter hold still on his head as he let the head slide into his throat, years of service had long since killed his gag reflex. Above Garrosh was coming to a decision...what Angelil thought of as encouragement was fast becoming an act of possessiveness.

With his other hand the Warchief skimmed over the long light skinned body, following the natural curve till it reached the two tight buns of muscle and grabbed one cheek, kneading the flesh there in a grip not hard enough to bruise but enough to make the mouth around him vibrate with the pleasured moan such stimulation brought with it. The vibrations made Garrosh shiver and pull the head off him swiftly, any more of that and he would finish the first round far too soon.

“Lay back on the bed.” He said gruffly and waited for the Elf to comply with his order which he did with a great deal of haste and lay back against the pillow, hooded gaze and a languid but confident smile gracing his red lips, a few stands of his now dishevelled hair falling over the glowing green orbs. “Did you stretch yourself out before you came?”

“Night off remember, I wasn't given enough notice.” Angelil said, hoping this wouldn't be a problem. The comment was greeted with a grin and a grunt of approval. He was only slightly put out when the orc left the bed to hunt around in a set of rough looking draws. A moment or two and he was back with a small capped bottle of oil. Laying on his stomach on the bed Garrosh put the oil down on the furs and gabbed the Elf's pale ankles and pulled, making the Elf scoot closer.

Angelil watched with interest, pushing himself up onto his elbows as the Orc uncapped the oil and spread it over one of his large fingers, he watched between spread legs as Garrosh ran the finger sensually between his cheeks till he reached the puckered hole where he stopped and added a little pressure, circling the entrance to the Elf's body slowly. Angelil moaned softly and let himself fall back on the bed, eyes closed and arms out stretched. “Fuck...”

Garrosh smirked at the expletive and continued to work his large thick finger into the Elf bit by bit, marvelling at the tightness of him as he slide further in. The change that came over the Elf too was almost addictive to behold, as he slowly stretched him it became apparent he was completely under Garrosh's control, the smallest movement could cause the lithe body to jerk or tighten, force air out of the lungs in a long sigh or drag it back in with a tortured gasp.

Angelil was a mess by the time Garrosh had inserted a second finger inside him, arms no longer splayed out to his side, one had wandered down his body to tease his slightly wilting cock to help him threw the burning shots of pain that naturally came with the stretching of his body, the other was thrown over his eyes to stop himself looking down at a sight so erotic he might loose his control.

“Look at me.” The tone was that was an order, laced with pure lust.

Angelil took a shaking breath and pulled the arm from his eyes and looked down at the Orc between his thighs and had to hold back a shudder of desire as he found himself pinned by a fiery yellow gaze. He felt the fingers leave him, sliding out of his body and leaving him empty and hollow. Garrosh moved his hand down to his own manhood and used more oil to coat himself.

Moving he hovered his larger body over the Elf, who automatically hooked his legs over the Orc's hips, eyes still pinned to the Warfchief's own as they came face to face again. He could feel the Orc's shaft already pressing against him, trying to get inside and fill him once more and it sent a thrill along his nerves like lightning.

“Keep your eyes on me...do not look away.” Garrosh's tone was full of quiet command. Angelil wasn't about to argue but it was hard to comply when he felt his body give way. His cry was muffled by his lip as he bit down, the shaft was far larger and thicker than the fingers had been and the burn was like fire against his sensitive skin...but threw it all he remained wide eyed, locking his gaze onto the Warchief as promised.

The sense of power that washed over Garrosh at seeing what was happening to the Elf below him was like a drug, every tiny movement of the handsome face, as he slowly and surly slid home. He knew in that very moment that owned Angelil, completely, that no other would give him what he was giving him now. No other would ever see this again but him alone.

As he fully seated himself inside the Elf he smelt the tang of iron and blood, taking his eyes away from the Elf's fiery green gaze for the first time since he had started his entry. Looking down at the lip the Elf had between his teeth he noticed a trickle of dark red running from a slice in the tender skin, fat red droplets escaping threw the gap. Leaning down he licked it clean and kissed the Elf deeply, sucking on his bottom lip.

Angelil in turn wrapped his arms around the Orc's neck and held on as he felt Garrosh start to move his hips slowly, shallow thrusts to start with, the burning still present but slowly starting to fade as he go used to the intrusion, pleasure building behind the pain until they started to blend into one. He pulled away from the kiss and groaned into the Orc's pointed ear before latching onto the lobe with his teeth and biting down enough to cause a sharp stinging pain.

From that moment on the gentle thrusts where abandoned. Snapping his hips back and forth Garrosh put more of hus brute strength into each thrust, ramming himself in and out of the tight heat his companion provided him, supporting himself on his forearms as he took his pleasure from the willing body curling itself around him from beneath. Every so often he would hit that particular spot inside the Elf that made the slim, muscular body tighten like a bowstring and the pleasure intensified ten fold for a moment before he relaxed.

Angelil was getting his wish, Garrosh was not as brutal as he could be but he was not holding back for fear the Elf below him would shatter. The rough thrusts where making his whole body run from one extreme to the other, one moment he was boneless the next Garrosh would do something so good he felt like his body was trying to pull him into a ball.

When Garrosh pulled out of him he almost screamed with frustration at the stimulation being taken away from him so suddenly, but he was being manhandled onto his hands and knees by large hands, careful not to crush his bones in the heat of desperation. Angelil helped where he could, but he was sure that his body would crumble before long and fall back to the bed. Garrosh was over him in an instant, broad warm chest against his back and one arm wrapped around him to help him keep the position. He felt himself filled again, the new angle adding more depth to the trusts.

“Ah! G-Garrosh!” The Warchiefs name slipped from his abused lips before he could stop it, though when it felt so good he could hardly be blamed, his brain might as well be several pounds of stake for all the good it was doing him, filled with nothing but the red mists of lust.

“Say it again...” The growl that escaped the Orc would have been enough to turn a warriors blood cold on a battlefield but here in the bedroom, in this position it made Angelil's blood run all the hotter.

“Garrosh.” He breathed the name on the end of a groan as the Orc gave a particularly hard thrust into him from behind making his body curl from the inside out as he felt firecrackers go off down his spine, stimulation wreaking havoc on his body and making nerves fire all over his body.

“Again.” Garrosh couldn't help but crave the sound of the elf saying his name. The sound of the wanton, needy moans was hot enough but to hear one of them turned into his name, like a plea, was like fire in his veins. As the elf complied and said his name again he found himself demanding it over and over, louder, punctuating the demand with harder and harder thrusts as he started to feel the ultimate pleasure close in on him.

Angelil was sure he was going to die. Nothing could feel this good and not be a near death experience. The sounds he was coming out with would normally have him cringe like something a virgin might come out with but instead they where leaking out of him like blood from a wound. Shouting the name of the Warchief as he felt his body filled over and over again. Quite without his permission his body decided that he had reached his limit and he groaned out the Orc's name again as his orgasm hit him.

Garrosh felt the body below him become almost unbearably tight and heard the strangled way his name came out of those red lips and couldn't hold back any longer. Gripping the body under him he started to pound the Elf harder than ever before, the smaller male's moans renewed as his over-sensitised body was hounded by jolts of almost mind numbing pleasure.

  
“Say! My! Name!” Garrosh bellowed the order loudly as he reached his own orgasm just as the Elf gasp out his name one last time, more like a whisper than a shout, he fell over the edge of pleasure and hunched over the smaller male with his arm wrapped tightly around the Elf as he finished, having just enough mind to roll to the side so as not to land on his bed partner.

Heavy breathing predominated the room as they both slowly caught their breaths again after the burst of physical exertion. Angelil slowly felt his body stop shaking, the tremble in his limbs only minor as he pushed himself in the direction of the orc and flung an arm over the muscular torso and dropped his head onto hard pectorals. If the orc didn't want to cuddle he could always push him off.

Garrosh looked down at the top of the Elf's head and smirked softly, letting him lay there cuddled close. His large hand ran up and down the slightly sweat slicked back as they both continued to enjoy the after glow and drag enough air back into their lungs to stop the panting.

It was an hour later when Angelil woke up, head still pillowed on the larger warm body, at some point the furs had been pulled over them. He slowly turned his head to look into the face of the Warchief, eyes closed, face placid as he slept soundly in his own bed with the Blood Elf curled around him. Angelil couldn't even remember feeling tired. Speaking of feeling, one of his arms was dead.

The Elf moved, carefully, with the hopes of not waking the Orc pressing a light kiss over one pectoral muscle he rolled so that he could get some feeling back in the arm, but before he could get too far away, Garrosh rolled over onto his side and dragged the Elf back into the curve of his body, resting his ample chin on top of the mop of ginger-red hair with a sigh threw his nose ring.

“Don't even think about going anywhere.” The Orc grumbled.

“Wasn't going to.” The Elf whispered as he wriggled the pins and needles out of his finger tips. “You owe me double remember.”

There was huff of amusement “Go back to sleep.”

Angelil didn't need telling twice, eyes already drifting closed.


	3. Mak'gora in the Ring of Valour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warchief has to defend both his title and his life in the Ring of Valour, while Angelil is forced to watch from the sidelines and fret over the fate of his...client?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while, I was unhappy with it and tweaked it till it was some what more presentable. Sorry fans of smut but you will have to wait for the next chapter for more smut, this is all plot. Thank you for all the Kudos and Hits thus far you are all very kind <3

“Angelil! Where are you, Child?” the question bounced off the walls of the brothel, turning the heads of young men and women busy with the early afternoon chores. Cleaning the brothel from top to bottom was a group effort seeing as Fizzcort was loathed to pay out for cleaners. There where standards to be upheld, one young woman was even polishing the leaves of the brightly coloured succulents dotted around in pots.

Mother Thursha made her way down the stairs from the staff quarters, the thump of her infamous walking staff was unmistakeable, slow careful footfalls as she leaned heavily on it, gripping the banisher with her other hand. The gathered workers all bowed to the elderly Orc woman as she moved across the floor, she nodded to a few, sharing a smiles with fewer still.

“I think he in da cella, Ma.” Zaljaf said looking up from the bar where he had been industriously scrubbing a stain, that might well have been blood, out of the wood-grain. Thursha smiled at the young troll and patted him on the arm with one wrinkled hand and the troll leaned over to kiss her cheek, careful of his tusks, before she moved behind the bar.

“Angelil, child?” She opened the door at the end of the long, gently sloping corridor hidden behind the bar and found the Blood Elf on his way up out of the dark cool cellar, a lamp in one hand and a clip board and quill in the other. There was a frown on his handsome features That melted into a smile when he spotted the woman. “What's put that ugly look on your mug?” the orc woman asked as she shut the door behind her.

“We are missing about seven barrels of rum, four cases of whiskey and two barrels of mead.” Angelil handed over the clipboard, sticking the quill behind his ear. Mother took it from him and looked over the tally chart swaring loudly in Orcish.

“That little bastard! What does he think I'm running here?” She tightened her grip on the board but was a little unsteady on her feet so Angelil reached out to take her by the arm and lead her over to a couple of empty barrels. The Orc let herself be lead, sitting down at his insistence, with a sigh. She took another look at the tally. “Will we have enough for tonight?”

Angelil took a seat next to her, crossing his legs, looking at the paper again over the elderly woman's shoulder, doing the math in his head. “Everything should last till the delivery tomorrow, apart from the mead, I suspect we will run out about half way threw the night. The sooner you buy that big nosed little parasite out of this place the better.”

“Don't get your hopes up too high, child.” Mother said with a hollow laugh. “A lifetime's savings are limited, a Goblin's greed is not and a lifetime like mine is more limited still.”

“Don't talk like that, Mother.” Angelil said shaking his head with a frown. The woman chuckled in amusement and put the clipboard down, patting the Elf's hand fondly.

“Will you go down the road to Ragger's tavern and ask him if he can spare us a few barrels of mead? Flutter your eyelashes a little?” She asked. The Elf nodded and moved to stand but Mother took his hand in hers and urged him to sit , he followed her silent instruction and waited. “I am going to have you on the bar until further notice.”

Angelil nodded, he had expected as much. “When is the healer coming?” The old Orc woman smirked a patted his hand again, letting out a knowing little laugh.

“I don't mean till you get the all clear from the healer, child. I am taking you off the menu until further notice. From what you have told me it's starting to look like the Warchief isn't willing to share you with our other customers, and personally neither am I.” The woman folded her arms.

  
“I can understand the Warchief not liking the idea that I lay with other men but it is my job, Mother.” The Elf said softly. “If I am not earning money then neither are you and-” a hand was placed over his mouth, the skin surprisingly smooth against his lips. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Ange, you work the bar, you sell drinks, I have seen you flirt more gold out of a customer with nothing but a shoulder slip and fluttering eyelashes than a girl going at it all night. I am no fool I know how to best place my children.” Angelil looked like he might try talking again but the hand was pushed more firmly against his mouth. “We should keep the new Warchief happy so he might keep us rich. Just nod, there's a good boy.” 

Angelil nodded after a moment or two and the hand was moved from his mouth to cup his cheek, the elderly woman's thumb stroking along his finely sculpted cheekbone. He let out a sigh of his own and leaned into the hand and it's affectionate touches. “Some of the others won't like that I am not open for business...” he muttered.

“I don't give a flying Quillboar, let them grumble if they must. None of them have been here long enough to dictate to me what I can and cannot do with my staff.” Mother pulled herself onto her feet after letting go of the Elf's face and brushed down her clothing with her free hand.

“You know they accuse you of favouritism.” Angelil chuckled and opened the door.

“Only when they think I can't hear them. When they start working hard enough they will earn my attention as you have.” She said as she set off back up the slope to the bar, the Elf following behind her with the clipboard, idly working out what they had to trade.

As Mother and her elvish shadow moved from behind the curtain covering the corridor's mouth they where met with a huddle of whores all talking at once, hurriedly. Previous chores had been abandoned, glasses still littered the tables and the bar top was still half scrubbed. Worry and excitement predominated and where almost thick enough to choke on. Mother's staff was slammed against the stone floor over and over again until quiet descended over the group and they turned their collective attention to their manager.

“What's the bother here?” She asked, looking from one face to the other. “Come on, out with it!” Her snap was directed at a teenage night elf boy who started stammering a garbled answer. He didn't get to finish because from the back of the group Amina and Treescha forced their way threw, pushing and shoving people who wouldn't move.

“De Warchief! It's all ova de street, he and Cairne Bloodhoof be havin a Mak'gora!” Amina said as she reached Mother.

“Carine challenged the Warchief for his title, the Warchief made it a bout to the death.” Treescha pushed the Night Elf boy away, he glared at her for for the rough treatment, baring her teeth at him when he made the move to square up to her. “We got back here as soon as we heard.”

“Amina, Zaljaf, you're in charge. Treescha, go and get some gold out of the safe and meet us back here. Ange go and get your cloak. The rest of you get back to work! If I get back here and there are lonely customers there will be hell to pay.” The old woman barked her orders “...Move!” Her staff met the ground again and people snapped to their work, scattering like mice.

“Ange?” Amina looked behind the old Orc but Angelil was already gone, taking the stairs to his room two at a time, the door to the staff bedrooms slamming against the wall as he vanished threw it. grab the cloak off the hook and changed his soft silk slippers for some boots at lightning speed.

When he made it back downstairs Mother was waiting, Treescha was holding open the door and the elderly woman shooed him towards it, following him out and turning to the younger orc after she closed the door behind them. “Go on head, find us some good seats.” Treescha nodded and set off in the direction the Arena at a run.

“Something bad must have happened for Cairne to take matters so far.” Mother said as she set off at a much slower pace, hooking arms with Angelil who offered it more out of habit than the woman needing any actual assistance, she in turned accepted it as a way of keeping him from running after her Granddaughter.

“Didn't Thrall make Mak'gora none lethal?” Angelil asked as they made a slow progression in the general direction of the rest of the streets flow. It seemed that the news had spread rapidly and everyone was looking for a front row seat, when there was a fight in Ogrammar, everyone turned up.

“He did, yes. Garrosh must have insisted they go back to the old way, Cairne would never insist on killing his opponent.” Mother grumbled under her breath. “There are good things to be said about tradition but there is no sense in killing your own allies.”

They lapsed into silence as they continued on their way. There where a large number of Tauren among those heading in the direction of the arena, Angelil couldn't help but wonder at what must have happened to have their normally level headed leader to make him want to fight the Warchief. Keeping up with the political current was not required in his line of work, he knew only of the news clients brought in at the bar, and even then, you had to take gossip with a pinch of salt. He resolved to have his finger on the pulse more from now on.

As they came to the entrance of the Ring of Valour the crowd became much denser, making it hard to get threw the mass of larger more muscular bodies. If there was one thing that most people tended to underestimate it was the impatience of old people. When a polite “excuse me” didn't make the men and women in front of them move out of the way, Mother located the right soft spots to prod, poke and jab to get the job done instead. They found themselves at the front of the queue very swiftly.

“My Granddaughter has already bought our seats, if you could let us past, please.” Mother said to the Orc that was waiting at the entrance, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to who was in front of him because there seemed to be some trouble at the back of the line. He didn't answer or move out of the way.

“Ah! what the-” his full attention was now on the bent backed old woman that was standing before him. Mother had used her staff to smash him in the shin, hardly a blow that would damage the wall of green muscle but enough to make sure he started paying attention. The glare broke seconds after he realised who was standing there. “Madam Thursha! G-go right on inside.”

Angelil moved inside with the old woman, trying his best to remain professional and not smirk as they made their way into the stadium. It was only when they reached to archway out to the stands that another blockage occurred. A group of polite young Tauren hunters helped make a gap for the nice old lady and her servant, which thanks to a nip to Angelil's arm he let pass without comment.

Treescha waved at them from a good spot in the front row. She seemed to have been using her body as a physical barrier to keep enough space free for all three of them, removing her legs from the bench only when her Grandmother and Angelil where about to sit down.

The Orc on Angelil's left, seeing an opportunity, attempted to use his size to gain some extra room and pressed close trying to force the elf to scoot away, he was most disappointed when all he received was a pointed “Don't touch what you can't afford.” from the elf and a hard jab in the foot from Mother's staff. Which Angelil personally considered a deadly weapon.

The noise in the arena was loud, so many people had packed into the Ring to see this fight, Angelil had to wonder how so many people had managed to hear about this so quickly, then again Garrosh didn't like to do much quietly so he shouldn't be surprised that this had become so much of an attraction. If he remembered correctly the fight had to have witnesses to be legal, and to challenge the Warchief...the Orc had probably wanted to make a point of showing what happened to those that chose to defy him.

“Ange,” Hands where placed on top of his own, and for the first time he realised that he had been picking at his nails in his lap. Mother wasn't looking at him, she continued to watch the floor of the arena while she spoke to him as though commenting on the weather. “Take things as they come and as they go.”

A long, loud horn blast cut threw the noise of the crowd like a blade. Everyone's attention was drawn to the sand covered floor as the combatants entered the Ring. Both where bare apart from loincloths around their hips, another rule of the Mak'gora, no armour was to be worn. Both flanked by Tauren shamans.

“A blessing on the weapons is allowed before the fight begins.” Mother said quietly to fill in the Elf next to her. “Each may have one weapon only.”

Angelil was only half listening. His eyes had immediately been drawn to Garrosh as he entered the ring. With their good vantage point he saw the finishing touches put to the black markings on the Warchief's skin, the whole of his jaw had been inked black as night, the lack of armour showing off the artwork he had been so proud of the last time they had spoken. When he had looked his fill at the Warchief his eyes where drawn to the woman next to him.

“Who is that?” He asked Mother, the orc woman followed his gaze to the shaman next to the Warchief and a frown came over her face, she seemed puzzled by her presence and leaned a little closer to answer the question.

“That is Magatha Grimtotem. She is the leader of the Grimtotem tribe...they have never pledged themselves officially to the Horde.” she leaned closer to the edge of the stands to get a better look at what was going on. It seemed that the blessings where taking place. “Why on earth would the Warchief pick her to do the blessing...?”

Angelil had heard about Cairne Bloodhoof, everyone had, but this was his first time actually seeing the Tauren in the flesh, and there was certainly a lot of it. The old Tauren might have been getting on in years but his body didn't seem to have gotten the message. He was all muscle, built for power and strength. His weapon, currently in the hands of his shaman was a long spear.

Spears where a good weapon, the range meant you could keep your opponent at a distance, the shaft was good for blocking and in close quarters...well you could hold the staff at any point. Angelil looked back to Garrosh who was taking his axe back from the Tauren shaman, he had a bad feeling about this. Another blast of the horn and it seemed that the fight was about to begin. Angelil was already on the edge of his seat, but he leaned a little closer anyway and rested his hands on the rail as the opponents squared off against eachother. Two walls of muscle preparing to clash like the mountains and only one of them was going to come out of the fight alive...

Another horn blast and the roar from both the Orc and the Tauren could be felt as much as heard. The vibrations rang right threw the elf's thinner boy as they two males ran at eachother the killing intent evident in both of them. As the mighty axe of the Warchief clashed against the shaft of the Tauran chieftains spear.

Locked together, muscles straining as each tried to get the upper hand. They stayed locked for quite some time before eventually pushing off eachother to go around for another clash. Several more blows where exchanged, now that the first rush had been gotten out of the way it was time to test eachother, lashing out to test defences. The crowd was going wild, the shouts and cheers of encouragement for both of them was strong but the clash of metal meeting metal could still be heard about the voices of the crowed. They circled like vultures before clashing again and breaking apart. Such force that the sand around them scattered with the shock waves.

When sheer strength alone would not decide who drew first blood then the testing blows came thick and fast, Garrosh's axe slashed down on the Tauren, who blocked them one or two slashed into the Tauren's thick muscles. However the large male brushed the injuries off like they where nothing more than fly bites before he retaliated, using the length of his rune spear to push the Orc away and gain back some distance and some of his advantage.

“They seem to be evenly matched in terms of strength.” Treescha said beside her grandmother, the old woman's eyes where following the movements of the men below like a hawk, assessing the blows and the clashes as one might read the future in the leaves of tea.

“Yes, for now. Strength is all well and good but in a fight like this you have to have the stamina to keep it up or you have to end it on the first blow.” Mother shook her head a little. Angelil didn't like the look of that and his eyes focused back on the fighting.

Garrosh was panting hard with the effort he needed to keep swinging his mighty axe, the axe of his father. Angelil remembered the news being brought in by a party of warriors who had seen the Warchief Thrall bestow the weapon on the commander. Cairne on the other hand didn't seem to be slowing down anywhere near as much, then again his lighter spear took less effort to move around.

The head of the spear was like a striking snake, jabbing and retreating lightning fast, probing the Orc for his weak points, some area of the body not defended or left open for an attack. It found one. Garrosh didn't yell or whimper, only grunted as the spearhead sliced into the flesh of his side.

“No!” Angelil's shout was lost in the many from the crowd. The wound alone wouldn't cost the Warchief his life, but Angelil knew very well how much of a hindrance being cut open could be to a fight. Every time the Orc moved he could see the gap in the skin open up like a blood filled maw, red steaks already making there way across the orange-brown skin to soak in the sand at his feet.

The two combatants drew out of the of his line sight, passing right blow him. He stood and leaned over the bars around the edge of the stands looking straight down to watch as the Warchief took the defensive favouring the side with the deep wound but able to block any more stabs that tried to take advantage of the weakness. He was keeping the other at bay which was the important part but he had to get away from the wall or he would be hemmed in.

Garrosh swung hard enough to drive Cairne back a few steps and took off after him, swing after swing driving them back to the centre of the arena floor pressing the advantage of having the Tauren on the back hoof. His Axe caught the older male on the thigh, leaving a slash in the skin that made Cairne stumble. Seeing an opportunity to end the fight Garrosh went for another swing, but, underestimating the momentum and the weight of the axe and the loose sandy floor acting against him, sending him too far round and exposing his back to the recovering chieftain, who was not a man to miss an opportunity either.

The blade slide over the Orcs back and the skin came apart. It must have been more than just painful, it should have been crippling agony to have his back sliced so deeply, two long gashes where the Wrcheif's muscles bulged either side of his spine. He bellowed and retreated, guard still up to one side of the arena now completely on the defensive.

“He's backing himself into a corner!” Angelil hissed and gripped the rail until his knuckles where white, unable to take his eyes off the battle that was going on below. The Orc next to him bellowed something about getting out of the way and made to grab for him to pull him out of the line of his line of vision but Mother slapped the outstretched green arm with her staff in warning.

Carine was going in for the kill and though all he wanted to do was look away the elf couldn't. Garrosh seemed to have decided that he was going to go down swinging and in one last ditch attempt swung wildly with all his force and caught the Tauren elder off his guard. As he blocked the attack Gorehowl bit into the staff and the spear shattered, but the blade of the axe also slashed into Cairne's chest.

Cairne seemed to be taken back by this change in events, though like a true warrior he soon collected himself, after all it was nothing more than a flesh wound. At first he seemed more than ready to continue the fight with his much shorter spear, the top half left in tact, but then he just seemed to slow down, as though something had just dawned on him, massive body swaying softly as though punch drunk.

Garrosh didn't waste any time on wondering why this had suddenly turned in his favour and moved in for the kill. Angelil turned away, he couldn't watch and he didn't need to. The sound from the Tauren's in the crowd alone signalled the end of their leader. An outpouring of grief mixed with the cheers of those that had supported their Warchief.

“Angelil.” Mothers soft voice called to him and he felt a hand on his cheek. His green eyes opened and he looked into the old orc's face. She gave him a smile and stroked his cheek softly. “It's over, come, we will take you home. You might be needed tonight so we better get you ready.”

 

 


	4. The Third Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally dawning on Angelil, horrible messy things he won't name by name. Garrosh is alive and the victor of a great battle but things don't add up. But now is a time of healing, and closeness and some unspoken thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long, i was still unsure as to where the story was going when it comes to the end but thanks to some well chosen Christmas gifts I have a much better plan in mind. I hope you enjoy the next instalment. As always I appreciate any comments on the narrative, I love to hear your opinions. <3  
> And I promise to be better at posting now too.

What happened after he left the arena was a blur. Angelil let his body go threw the motions while his brain ticked over the fight in detail, like watching a slowed down version of the whole thing, trying to work out what had happened. Garrosh shouldn't have won...not that he wasn't overjoyed that something had tipped it into Garrosh's favour ...but it was off.

Mother kept everyone away from him when they arrived back at the brothel, even thought there where some guests already sat around enjoying some company she snapped at anyone that tried to question them. She took him straight up to his room and deposited him into the bath. She didn't bother with conversation, probably doing the same thing that he was doing as well as working out what affect this was going to have on business overall.

The Body Emporium might be a brothel, but it was also one of the best places to eat and drink too. Tauren might not, as a rule favour the flesh on the menu, but there where more than a few that liked to be served food by beautiful, chatty, pleasant people that where always interested in what a paying customer had to say. There where going to be a lot fewer he was sure, after word spread of Cairne's death.

While she was washing his hair, Mother started to hum under her breath, he had never heard the words, and most likely they would be in a language he couldn't speak, but the tune he remembered like it was part of his own soul. From when she had first become his manager the soothing tune had had a way of wrapping around his brain and making it calm. After it wormed its way in threw his ear he stropped his internal playback and looked over his shoulder.

“Do you really think he will send for me?” He asked. The humming stopped and Mothers fingers ran over his scalp and down his neck to his shoulders where they rested against the reddened skin,their warmth seeping into the slightly chilled flesh.

“I don't think he will wait until tonight at all. I think someone will come for you in an hour or so. He is an Orc who just won a great battle, he is alive and he will want to celebrate.” she urged him to tip his head back and started washing the soap from his hair with bowls of water scooped from the bath. “And he is hurt...no matter how big or strong or tough we might think we are...when we are hurt we crave comfort and love in one way or another.”

He nodded softly, not wanting to get the soap in his mouth, eye squeezed shut like did when he was a child. He understood that feeling, it was something he instinctively tried his best to hide from others, but he was always clingy and needy when he was sick, craving someone to just be there for him...though he honestly doubted Garrosh was the same.

There was a knock at the door and Treesha's voice came threw the wood.

“Grandmother, there is an Orc here he insists on speaking to you. Both.” her voice was muffled but the urgent tone carried threw.

Mother and Angelil shared a glance then started moving double time, while he got out of the bath and slipped on a thin silk robe, Mother drained the bath and called back threw the door.

“Tell him we will be a moment and show him into the office.”

“Course, Gran.”

Angelil pulled the chord around his middle and tied it off, pulling open the door and heading over to the bed and grabbing his slippers, taking a seat while they slid onto his chilled feet. “What do you think the Orc wants to talk about? Normally they just come and pick me up.”

“Hellfire if I know, but if they want to start grunting a griping at me they are in for more than they bargained for.“ Mother grumbled as she made her way out of the door, her Elvish shadow dutifully falling in behind her. As they neared the office Treesha slipped out with a tray, obviously delivering some refreshments to the guest.

As they entered the office, Angelil got a good look at their Orchish visiter, he was not one of the grunts that had fetched him before. This one was much older, easily visible by his snow coloured hair, missing a tusk and there was an intelligence behind his gaze, it felt like they where being calculated and summed up on just one sweep of it.

“Mother Thrusha, Mr Fireskin, my name is Hograth Boneaxe. Pleased to meet you both.” He gave them a little nod then smiled, it looked rather friendly. He watched them as they both walked over to Mother's desk where she took her seat looking none too impressed and Angelil stood behind her looking neutral.

“Nice to meet you.” Angelil said with a nod.

“How can we help you?” Mother said. Direct and to the point as always.

The Orc laughed heartily, “I have heard that you are not a woman to have her time wasted. I shall try not to do so.”

Mother just gave another nod and waited for him to get to the point.

“The guards you are used to are gone, “ The Orc said “Couldn't keep their mouths shut, so I had them assigned to boarder patrol for the next five years.” There was defiantly a twinkle in the old Orc's eye and Angelil couldn't help but smile at the thought of the scared one, that looked at him like he was shit on his boots, bored out of his skull marching back and forth in some forgotten frontier somewhere, hopefully getting shot at. A lot.

“And you are their replacement?” Mother said sceptically, someone with that much power being a guard for a whore?

“I am. I am to be in charge of taking care Mr Fireskin during his visits to and from the Hold.” he handed over some papers to Mother who took them from him and started to skim read. “I will be in charge of his safe keeping, something the Warchief seems to put a high price on.” he looked at Angelil. “Now I know those two cretins where less than accepting of your visits, personally I don't care who warms the Warchief's bed when he is in the mood for it warming. I was not kept in the loop while I was away but now I am the loop I intend to straighten out this bag of cobra's.”

“I don't understand.” Angelil's brow crinkled.

“I run the Warchief's personal staff.” Hograth said “I did it for Warchief Thrall and now I do it for his successor. I manage things, including the visitation of...guests.” He didn't yse the word whore, and Angelil got the feeling it was not out of disgust but out of respect for the people he was talking to. This seemed to impress Mother, who's eyes flicked up to give him a favourable look before she continued to skim the papers.

“I am sure you know how to be discreet or I doubt it would have taken so long to find out about you.” There was that twinkle again “Mostly I am just going to be here to make sure you make it too and from the Hold in one piece and of course to speak with you about payment Mistress Thursha.”

Mother looked up from the parchment again and placed it on her desk and pointed at a small section the finger underlining and amount. Though her facial expression hadn't changed in the slightest, to Angelil it was clear that something had taken her by utter surprise.

“This is a rather drastic increase in amount.” She said arching her eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because the Warchief has expressed a desire for extended visits, of longer than a single night.” Hograth said “but that can be discussed after I have delivered Mr Foreskin.” Hograth said. “I am sure that you are a busy woman but if you can spare a little time in say an hour and while Mr Fireskin gets ready I shall wait downstairs, if that is acceptable?”

“Perfectly acceptable, please feel free to have another drink on the house,” Mother said with a smile of her own...if Angelil didn't know any better he would have sworn there had been a bit of a flirtatious edge to it as well, and...did Hograth just wink at Mother as he left the room?!

“Come on move your bones you have Warchief to go and cuddle,” Mother said loudly, snapping him out of his look of mild horror.

~*~

Ten minuets later Angelil was walking towards the Hold with his new escort, who unlike the previous one, was rather talkative...though part of him wished he wasn't.

“A good woman, your Mother.” Hograth said as they ambled along threw the crowded streets.

“Yes she is.” Ange said. For the first time he was heading to see the Warchief without his hood up and he actually felt a little uncomfortably exposed.

“...So is there a...Father..?” Hograth, for all his attempts, might as well have not bothered with the facade of subtlety.

“No there is not.” Angelil sighed and decided he might as well go the whole hog. “She likes dried peaches, sugar coated if you can get them, she is not a fan of poetry unless it had a few rude bits here and there, belching is considered good manners after you eat anything she puts in front of you and if you manage to keep up with her when you drink you might as well move in.”

The Orc started laughing loudly as they moved into a less crowded street and up to the door of the Hold, the two new guards nodded amicably to them both, Angelil was quite a lot happier with how this was being handled already. The door was opened and they walked inside.

“The healer should be just about-” There was a crash and a roar and what Ange assumed must be said Healer running down the spiral steps with his bag in tow and headed straight for the door at speed. “What in the name of...what's going on here?”

“I am NOT goin' back up der if ya pays all the gold in Ogrimmar!” The healer, a blue skinned troll seemed adamant that whatever had happened had lost the Warchief his services. “Ya can fuck off, mon!”

“What are you talking about?” Hograth said exasperation on his every syllable. “Surely you are not saying you can't heal him.”

“No, mon I sayin' I won't heal 'im! I -Oi whats da big idea, let go of me bag!”

Ange seemed to have cottoned on a lot faster than Hograth, Garrosh had either threatened to or more likely actually taken a swing at the healer and the man had decide the pay wasn't worth it. Ange was currently dragging the healing bag off of the trolls shoulder and hoisting it over his own.

Hograth seemed to catch up and took the troll by the upper arm and pulled him insistently in the direction of what Ange assumed was a smaller meeting room. He nodded to the Elf and Ange vanished up the steps two at time, the trolls complains getting fainter and fainter as he moved upward.

As he reached the top of the stairs he was met with the crashing sounds of things falling off tables and chairs landing on their backs, he was only just fast enough to duck the three legged stool that was launched at his head seemingly propelled by nothing but angry orcish roar.

“Oi!” he said as he flattened himself against the inner side of the steps like a shield.

“Angelil?” The sound of lumbering footsteps and crashing about seemed to have stopped for the moment and the elf decided that it was safe to come out.

The room was a mess, there where parchments all over the place, some of the chairs had been smashed never mind thrown over. The stand on which the ever present beer barrel stood was broken and the keg had rolled to hide in a corner, the bone tankard was in shards.

In the middle of this devastation was Garrosh, as always with these visit s he was in nothing more than his leather pants, but unlike before he was bleeding. He seemed to have ripped open the wound at his side and across at least half of his back, there where bandages littering the floor around him with some bright green paste on them.

“What have you been doing to yourself?” Ange tried his best to sound exasperated rather than worried, not sure how well he pulled it off. He swiftly made his way to the Warchief, not bothering about removing his slippers and started touching tentatively around the deeper wound in his side. By the consistency of the blood the Troll had already administered something to halt the bleeding and encourage clotting.

Garrosh looked down at the Elf who did his best to touch him tenderly, not wishing to cause any more pain. His heavy brow furrowed as he started to twist his body out of the way. “Stop that, it's nothing.” He tried to move his wounded side out of the way of the elf's questing fingers, it didn't stop him, the slighter man just followed with an irritated clicking of his tongue.

“It's not nothing, it's a serious injury now stop twisting around like that before you do even more damage.” Angelil said as he flipped open the bag he had taken from the healer and started looking inside it for a needle and thread, ignoring the snort of the Warchief above him, though he seemed to stop moving as much. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Huh?” Garrosh looked down at the elf now on his knees.

“I was in the stands watching you.” Angellil muttered, taking some of the strongest thread he could find and pushing it through the eye on the second attempt, his hands shaking softly with...something he didn't care to put a name to. He pulled it through and snipped the end off, knotting it and going back to look at the wound. “Stand still, this is going to sting.”

“I am sure I can pull through.” Te Orc seemed resigned to the fact the elf was not going to let him be till he had patched him up. “You where watching me?” He stood as still as he could while the elf started pushing the needle through the separated flaps of skin and pulling the strong thread threw. Garrosh couldn't see the Elf's face very clearly but he could hear the slight waver in his voice.

“Of course I was watching you. You think that I would sit by in the brothel and wait for news to be brought to me?” He snorted lightly “If anything was going to happen to you then I was going to be there to see it for myself.”

Garrosh was quiet for a moment regarding the Elf with a clinical gaze while he worked slowly on the wound in the large Orc's side, the stitching neat and even. He moved onto his back next again sewing the Orc like a ripped bit of fabric. Snip, thread cut and then the bandages where being pulled out and Angelil rose to his feet. His face was tilted down to look at the cloth in his hands almost like he was avoiding the Warchief's gaze ...Garrosh didn't like that.

With thick orange-brown fingers he put his hand under the Elf's chin and lifted his face till the glowing green eyes where looking into his own. There was a crease between the Elf's long fiery orange eyebrows it marked his handsome face with worry, frustration and perhaps a little anger, but not, Garrosh suspected, against him.

“You should let me bind these...” Ange said softly, tying to avert his gaze, he found however it was pulled back to the fierce yellow of the Orc's eyes. “Let me tend my Warchief.” He asked.

Ange hadn't meant to stress ownership, in fact hadn't realised just how much he had done so. Garrosh heard it though, and something in him lifted, something he couldn't place and he found himself unable to deny the Elf his request and his hand slipped from the angular pointed chin.

The stool was retrieved, remarkably in tact, and the orc sat, all be it a little gingerly, while Ange went to get a bowl of warm clean water and a cloth. Placing everything on the newly righted table he set about cleaning the freshly stitched wounds clean of congealed and dry blood removing the green paste that the healer had covered his skin in before Garrosh had had his little tantrum.

Ange hunted through the bag, pulling out a large jar full of viscus amber liquid, pulling the cork out the air suddenly smelled a lot sweeter.

“...Honey?” Garrosh quirked an eyebrow as the elf dipped his long pale fingers into the sweet treat and made his way behind the Warchief, turning a little it did nothing to help him see what the elf had planned, not that it mattered when he felt the sticky feeling of the sugar syrup gliding over the wounds and giving them a thick coating.

“Manuka Honey.” Angelil corrected as he continued to spread the sweetener over the swelling edges of torn skin. “It's a natural agent for keeping out infections, keeps the wound from festering and kills anything harmful trying to make it's home in your body.” He finished spreading some more on the wound on Garrosh's side and stepped back in front of him with a slight smile. “And on top of that it's tasty.”

The Orc smirked and reached out to take the Elf by the wrist, his hand still covered in honey. Ange didn't resist the pull and he stepped forward a little more so that Garrosh could bring his sticky fingers to his mouth and engulf them one by one in his mouth sucking the honey from each slim digit.

“Have you quite finished trying to eat me?” Ange said, a little of his old flirtatious manner creeping back into his tone. He seemed to be much more relaxed now that he was being allowed to do something productive rather then sit around and worry or bite his fingernails. This was practical.

“Not enough meat on Elves to bother eating.” Garrosh smirked as Ange took his hand back and turned to wash both of them clean in the warm water, moving on to sorting out the bandages for a second time.

After Garrosh was wrapped Angelil started go threw the other bottles in the bag, there where not many of them and all the ones he found had strange symbols on them he didn't like the look of. “What on earth is this.” He muttered and he pulled the top off one bottle and took a sniff, it was wrenched away from his nose seconds later while he attempted very hard not to retch and corked it again. “By the Sunwell what the hell do Troll healers use in this stuff?” the bottle was tossed back into the bag.

Garrosh laughed and the Elf turned his head to see what was so funny, hearing the laugh was actually soothing after the bellows from before, both here and in the Ring hours before “What's so funny?”

“Blood Elves trying to swear is always funny.” Garrosh shrugged his good shoulder

“Would you prefer me to swear like an orc?” He said as he fished around in the bag and started pulling out raw herbs, grateful to see that not everything was useless. “Granted I might have to swallow some sandpaper to pronounce any of them properly, or get myself a nasty lung infection.”

There was a snort behind him and the sound of the Orc getting to his feet and thumping over, more carefully than normal, favouring his injured side, all the clues where in the sounds of the footfalls, some things you never lost it seemed.

“What are you doing exactly?” Garrosh said as he slowly sank himself down on one of the chairs by the table and watched the Elf sort herbs into small piles.

“I am going to make you a pain tonic, I don't trust anything in that bag that has been pre-mixed..nothing for healing should have a skull on the label in my humble opinion.” he said pointing at the cloth satchel accusingly like it was to blame for everything. “I have the distinct felling that you would end up hallucinating pink Kodo or something.”

“How do you know so much about healing?” The Orc asked as he leaned forward, arms folded on the table while he watched.

“I was a hunter, if you don't know something about healing then you don't get to be a hunter for long.” The Elf said with a smirk. “Weeks out in the middle of forests and desserts and stuck halfway up mountains on the trail, you can fall, trip, slip or drop yourself into any number of nasty injuries. Not to mention the game you are hunting can have a nasty habit of hunting you back.”

Garrosh listened and nodded. Seemed sensible to him, warriors new nothing about healing but the very basics, things they might need if they where trapped in enemy territory, mostly it consisted of stopping the bleeding, sucking it up and deal with the pain and getting home to find the nearest medic, fast. “And now you're a whore?”

“And now I'm a whore.” Angelil repeated with a bit of a laugh the bitter edge like a biting wind out of nowhere. He started stripping dried leaved into a small pestle controlling himself he forced down the bitterness covering it up with a smile “Though whore is strong word, I like to think of myself as...a purveyor of pleasure. Anyone can be a whore.”

The sound of the the chair scraping as Garrosh got up filled the room and when Angelil turned around Garrosh was stood beside him reaching out and pulling the elf close, the pestle slipping from his fingers as the Orc kissed him. Garrosh dominated and possessed him entirely with his lips and tongue as it roved his mouth, coaxing him to react, and he did.

“You are the purveyor of my pleasure .” Garrosh said, as he pulled back,the softness to his voice did nothing to cover the possessiveness in the statement. “So now that makes you unique. What would you call yourself now?”

The scent of crushed herbs inside the bowl hung around them mixing with the sweetness of honey and the scent of the Orc himself. Ange stayed close, grateful that the arms around him hadn't moved an inch, they still cradled his body, hands large enough to crush his skull, break his bones like dry grass, yet they where gentle and careful, the pressure secure, safe. His eyes locked onto the yellow gaze of the Orc looming over him.

“Yours.”

There was a grunt of approval and with a lingering brush of his fingers over the elf's sensitive sides Garrosh stepped back and turned to head to his bedroom. “Bring it to me when it's done.” he said, stopping at the door and glancing over his shoulder.

Ange nodded and went back to his work, crushing and grinding the herbs, listening to the Orc land on the bed heavy and boneless. His fingers worked deftly enough, taking the crushed paste and piling it into a bit of spare bandage and using some of the thread to tie it up. As he worked, he hummed, a tune without words ever ready to jump from the back of his mind to his lips.

When the herbs where infused with boiling water till it turned a bright shade of green he threw what remained of the makeshift teabag into the fire pit to burn away cleanly and packed up the bag before he made his way to Garrosh's bedroom. He walked through the door and was about to speak when he stopped himself.

There laying his bed, naked as the day he was born, Garrosh was already sound asleep on his stomach, avoiding the slash across his lower shoulders. He must have been bone tired. Slipping around the bed on silent feet Ange placed the wooden mug of tea on the bedside table closest to the sleeping Orc and started to undress.

It was early when the elf slipped into the bed beside the Warchief burying himself under the furs and pressing as close to the other males side as he could without disturbing his rest and leaned his forehead against his good shoulder, following the orc into dreams, one slender hand slipping into one lax orange-brown palm and holding it tight till the world fell away.


	5. Dishonour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrosh is dishonoured and Ange starts to ache (which is never a good sign).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short and has been a long time coming but wrestling with it was killing the flow so I decided not to fight it and just let it be a short chapter so that I can move things along. It also turned into something a little sweet too.

Ange woke the next morning alone in Garrosh's bed. With a deep breath he arched his body into an almost C curve as he stretched out his still tired muscles before he sat up. The furs that he had all but cocooned himself in during the night fell down to pool around his waist and he looked around for any sign of his Warchief. 

He was pleased to note that the cup with the pain tonic in had been drained, though he couldn't be sure if the Orc had actually put it to use or poured it down the drain. Garrosh himself was nowhere to be seen. Ange was a little disappointed but took the rare time alone to look over the room itself, after all he might be spending a lot more time here.

The room was spartan, but it suited the one that owned it, though some things he was sure Garrosh had inherited from Thrall. The furniture was Orc made, sturdy and looked like it could take a punch, probably best when one took yesterdays display into account. The elf pulled himself out of bed and was pleasantly surprised when the wooden floorboard where not freezing under his bare feet. 

There was a knock on the bedroom door and then hurried footsteps heading to the stairs. One long eyebrow quirked upwards slightly. he wandered over to the door and pulled it open and as he expected he was met with nobody, he was however compelled to look down when he stepped on something soft .

On the floor there was a small bundle of clean clothes and a large jug of hot water along with a basin, soap and a cloth. He bent over and picked up the clothing. Leather hide pants in a dark tan brown and a plain red shirt that, he noticed with amusement, would only button up to just under his pectorals. There where some good strong knee high leather boot next to the door, he thought them plain too till he noticed that the symbol of the Horde had been embossed over the toes.

“Well everyone is going to know I am a man when I have these on...” The elf chuckled to himself as he regarded the pants with a light shake of his head. He draped the clothing over the crook of one arm, leaving the boots outside and gathered up the water and bowl. Moving back into the bedroom he kicked the door closed and started to clean himself up all over before trying on his new clothes. He was right the pants where very...well fitted. 

He wished he had brought a comb with him but as it was he had to do the best he could with this hands. He pulled out all of the bands and braces that held his hair in the elaborate styles that he tended to lean towards and let it all fall down his back all the way down to his ankles. He gave his head a few shakes and a couple more pins fell out to clang on the floor. 

Another knock at the door. Ange waited a moment, crouching down to pick up the pins and waiting to see if feet hurried away again but there was just another polite knock instead. He put his pins on the bedside table and walked over to the door, opening it to see Hograth Boneaxe waiting on the other side. 

“Good Morning, Mr Fireskin.“ the old orc said with a smile around his tusks. “Would you like some breakfast?” he tilted his head slightly to the side “My, you have a lot of hair don't you?” He remarked. 

“It's a gift and a curse.” He said with a smile “Breakfast would be wonderful, thank you.” he gave the old orc a spin, the tight pants clinging to all the right places, the shirt leaving a good section of his upper chest on display and tucked into the pants, the sleeves loose to the cuff where they where buttoned tightly. “Thoughts?” 

“Very...tight.” he said after looking for a word to describe what he was currently seeing. The Orc had tried his best he supposed and he stepped back into the bedroom only long enough to grab a tie and then followed the bulky green skinned male to the table he had used the night before. It was clean now and there where two plates and a huge bowl of fruit waiting for him. 

Ange took the seat that Hagrath pulled out for him and then he took the other. Ange noted with a look around the room that over night or possibly while he had slept, everything had either been replaced or repaired. The barrel of beer had been erected on a new stand and new bone tankard had been placed on top. The floor was clear of both blood and green past and the cold embers of the fire pit had been removed and fresh wood and kindling was waiting for the starting.

“Your little mice work fast,” Ange noted as he reached forward and took a whole bunch of red grapes from the overflowing bowl and placed them onto his plate. There where another three in the bowl so he didn't feel too bad. He pulled one of the plump berries off the bunch and popped it into his mouth. The slight crunch as he bit threw the firm flesh proved how perfect they where for the picking.

“Servants are not meant to be seen or heard, Mr Fireskin, they are meant to work while nobody is looking for them.” the orc had picked out an apple and was busy peeling it with a knife. “Much like people in your profession they tend to conduct business in the shadows.” 

“You make us sound like assassins.” Ange mused in an idle thought before devouring another grape.

“You would make ideal candidates certainly.” Hograth chuckled and sliced the now skinless apple and started crunching his way through a segment. “You where remarkably swift-witted yesterday during that business with the healer. I also note that the Warchief has been tended despite the Troll departing.” 

Ange didn't know if that was a question or not so he chose to assume it was simply a statement of facts and smiled while pulling another grape from his bunch and biting it in half, watching the old Orc with calculation, waiting for his next move. 

“The Warchief is taking business at the moment as you might have guessed, he wished me to tell you that he will be joining you for lunch later on in the day when he has some free time.” The Orc devoured another slice of his apple, waiting till he had swallowed before continuing. “ You have free roam of these room but as you might expect I am afraid you cannot leave them unless in the up most need.”

“I though as much.” Ange said with a nod as he looked around. It didn't look like there was going to be much to entertain him while he waited for Garrosh to finish being political and he held in a sigh. Hograth laughed and the elf turned to face him only to find he had been watching him intently.

“I know that there is little to do here for you, I will do my best to make sure that next time you have something to busy yourself with during the daytime hours.” The Orc seem much like Mother had always appeared, clever and insightful into the workings of others despite their attempts to be guarded. “Do you have any hobbies?” 

“I am a working man, Hograth.” He pointed out with a smirk “We don't get an abundence of time to find something we enjoy just to ourselves.” He popped a grape into his mouth and chewed slowly in contemplation. No he didn't have any real free time...before...but this new arrangement with Garrosh seemed to be granting him more than he had first realised. “But I used to enjoy drawing once upon a time.” he ventured. 

Hograth nodded and pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and, to the Elf's intrigue, a small pair of spectacles. He perched the small lenses on his squat nose and made a swift note with a tint pencil before he sequestered the notebook and glasses away again. Ange felt his burning curiosity rise. 

“Hograth, if you don't mind me saying so you are the strangest Orc I have come across in some time.” he leaned his head on his hands and watched the green skinned Orc with a slightly titled head. “Forgive me for generalising but you are very eloquent and your manners are top notch and...you have tact.” 

“Internment camps are a good place to learn new skills.” The orc smiled and gave a little chuckle when he saw the look on the elf's face. Internment Camp was not a world that normally got banded about lightly in a society of Orcs but the old Orc didn't seem about to elaborate and the Elf allowed him his privacy. “I am afraid it might take me some time to find tome to get you something to draw with. There are some books on the shelf over there that might entertain you, Thrall used to enjoy them, I doubt they will get much appreciation now.” 

Having finished his apple he stood and headed for the door, leaving Ange to watch him decent the the stairs in thoughtfulness for a few moments while he finished his breakfast.

~*~

When Angelil heard the thump of feet on the steps, he took his eyes from the pages of the book he had rather been enjoying for the past few hours. It was Garrosh he could tell, but the pace and the heavy sounds where taken into consideration he knew his lunch was not likely to be a peaceful one. He closed the book and put it on the floor next to the large bear-skinned chair he had curled up in and waited. 

Just has he suspected when Garrosh reached his rooms his foul temper was written in every line of his body and face. Ange felt a slight twinge of fear run threw him, but he suppressed it. Garrosh seemed to be full of angry energy and it was only a matter of time before he found something to take it out on. The same stool he had failed to smash the night before was snatched up and hurled at the back wall along with an orcish bellow, where it finally gave up and shattered into splinters. 

Angelil sat perfectly still as the bowl of fruit followed the stool and clattered to the floor where it spun around and around on it's rim before being booted at the wall again. Though the Warchief was far from calm after this little display, Ange deemed it a safer time to try and defuse the situation now that the first burst of violence was over. He slipped from the chair, slowly, deciding that sudden movements still might not be advisable. 

“What's happened?” he said softly approaching the Orc from the side, where he would be easily seen, while Garrosh seemed intent on crushing the metal fruit bowl into a completely unusable mess by kicking it against the wall over and over again. The Orc spun around and it took every ounce of Angelil's courage not flinch, but Garrosh seemed to catching himself. 

“I have been robbed of my Honor!” he yelled and started to pace restlessly around the room, Ange watched him like a hawk as he moved, assessing, calculating the risk that might be involved with intervening further, but decided against anything more yet, Garrosh had some more to vent.

“That Tauren bitch! That cowardly , yellow bellied Viper! Crawling her way in and spitting her venom onto my victory! Corrupting it!” he turned back to the Elf and started pacing towards him with purpose and Ange made himself stand still and not backing down or cowering. “Poison! She poisoned my blade!” 

And like that the last piece of the puzzle slotted into place. The flight suddenly swinging in Garrosh's favour, the way the mighty bull had slowed to a crawl, how such a minor wound had seemed so devastating to his attack . “She slipped poison on the blade during the blessing...” Ange said slowly “She made you an assassin instead of a warrior.” 

Another bellow and one of the legs of the stool that had until now survived Garrosh's fury was kicked across the floor where is started to clatter down the the spiral staircase. The bursts of violence where more spaced out now and Ange moved forward slowly placing his hand on the large quivering forearm, it tensed even more but he never moved to hurt him.

“My Warchief,” he started, with an even tone and strong with conviction. “Tell me everything.” his hand slipped down the large forearm and over the balled fist, he felt it relax a little, the gentleness of his fingers and the ghosting touches worked their way to unclench the fist. His hand slipped in and he started tugging the Orc a little until he growled and followed his lead over to the large chair that he had recently vacated. 

After Garrosh was sat down in the comfortable chair Angelil brought him a pint of ale, which the Orc snatched from his grip and drank down in a matter of second, when it was returned it was done so a little more gently. Another pint later and Ange was hooked by the waist and pulled onto the Orc's lap. He gathered himself into a more comfortable position and waited. 

The story was not a long one to tell, and Ange listened to it while resting against the Orc's large barrelled chest with invested interest. He would of course be recounting it to Mother later on so he didn't want to miss any details. When he thought It a safe idea he chipped in with questions of his own though not many. He noticed that Garrosh would go over the same point, changing the words he used but not the meaning behind them:

“I would never use such cowardly tactics in a sacred battle!”

“You don't need to convince me of that, I know you respect Orc traditions.” Ange said soothingly as one hand traced the patterns of ink on the Warchief's skin, to draw attention to the lesson Garrosh had given him the first time he had seen them. “You are a proud warrior, you don't fear battle.”

Angelil continued the gentle touches while his lover continued, now more calm again he continued about how Garrosh felt the eyes of the room about him condemning him, suspecting him of foul play, considering him a coward, weak, unfit to look after the Hordes best interests. Ange looked up into his lovers eyes and found that under all the muscle and all of the rage and anger and fire and passion....there was so much insecurity hiding away.

“What ever they think of you is not what it is important right now.” Ange said as he rested his head against one massive shoulder. “You know the truth. You didn't know what she did, you would never have condoned it...but still Cairne is dead and nothing can be done to bring him back. What matters most is what you do now.” He looked up at the Warcheif, watching for his reaction. 

Garrosh looked deep in thought. His heavy bows drawn together and and his yellow eyes distant looking into the middle distance. The Orc still had his arm wrapped around the Elf and his thick fingers stroked over his cloth covered sides absent mindedly. Ange was sure is you looked hard enough you could see the cog slowly turning in his head.

After a couple of minutes in this calculating silence Garrosh looked down at the elf and then moved in slowly for a kiss. It was now like their other kisses had been, hard with heated passion and lust that meant to fog the brain and entice the scenes into a higher state of sensitivity. Garrosh was gentle, coxing the elf into the kiss rather than demanding, it was long not because of a need for an outlet but a desire to be closer.

When the Orc finally pulled back from the kiss Ange almost intellectually tried to follow the lips he didn't consent to stopping. He stilled himself and opened his eyes when he realised the Orc was preparing to stand. He pushed himself out of Garrosh's lap and stood, feeling a little awkward but not knowing why. What he did know was that his chest ached. 

“I will have someone take you home, there are things that I must attend to.” Garrosh looked at him with such intensity Ange almost felt like the Orc was looking through him. “But I will call for you when I return. Be ready.” 

The ache intensified between the elf's lungs, but he answered straight away. “Yes, My Warchief.”


End file.
